


Lemons

by 60s_babe



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60s_babe/pseuds/60s_babe
Summary: Paul and John meet at an art gallery. The Beatles don't exist and it's 1967.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, and it's not that good but I hope you enjoy it. Please comment and let me know if you think I could prove it in anyway.  
> You can also go on my Tumblr and leave prompts because I feel I work better when I have a sense of where the story is going and what the end result is going to be.
> 
> tumblr- dropbear-69

Lemons.

He smells like fucking lemons. 

Was the thought currently swirling in Paul McCartney's mind.

He couldn't tell you how he got in this position, even if he wanted to.

One minute he was at some high class art gallery, with all the up and coming artists, 'He's going to be the next Picasso, I'm telling you McCartney!', and now he was stumbling through some strangers house.

But not just any stranger.

John Lennon.

Obviously there were events in between the two previously stated, but in Paul's current situation there was no blood left circulating in his head, and was now occupying a more southern region of his body.

John Lennon had been Groovy Bob's prized artist. He'd talked about him in high regard to Paul all evening, trying to seem subtle but failing to do so.

So when Paul had finally been introduced to the infamous Lennon, he'd been excited and intrigued. And he'd been everything and more Bob had talked him up to be.

He matched Paul in height, but his overall broader more masculine structure had made him seem way bigger than Paul.

The first thing that caught Paul's eye were the glasses, they were small, and circular like those Paul had seen grandmothers wear. His beady almond eyes hid behind them. Two thick sets of eyebrows rested above his glasses, and as Paul's eyes trailed up he noticed the tangled mess of red sitting on his head. Paul had never met a red head before. 

He then started to trail back down his face and saw his nose. It was strong, long, and aquiline. Paul felt himself gulp. He had a thick caterpillar like moustache, that made a weak attempt to cover his lips. His lips were two cherry pink slits. Hardly there but the colour was undeniable. 

His shoulders were broad, and he looked sturdy. Like he could toss Paul over his shoulder like a sack of flour. John knew it too, he stood there with this aura around him that said, 'I know I look tough, what the fuck are you going to do about it?'. 

And Paul didn't know what the fuck he was going to do about it. This person, this MAN, Paul had just met drew him in and made him question everything. He'd spent the last 25 years of his life being a skirt chasing playboy, but here he was drooling over a man he hadn't even heard speak yet.

Then he spoke. His nasally, scouse accent tearing through the air, going from Paul's ear down to his cock. He felt more listening to this man speak then he did when he was thrusting inside most of his nameless fucks. 

After that first meeting the night had consisted of reminiscing about Liverpool, in depth conversations about art, and music, and poorly done Elvis impressions that had a lot of hip thrusting, and low growling American accents that left Paul with an uncomfortable semi.

Paul had no idea what he was going to do. He had just met someone who in a few hours he felt he'd known years. They connected on every level, they shared thoughts and opinions, and Paul could tell that if he played out the rest of the night well, the way it was SUPPOSE to be played, he would make a friend for life. But sitting here with a semi hard cock wasn't how the night was suppose to go. 

John wasn't a bird, and he wasn't either, this was wrong, terribly wrong. But then John turned his head sideways to look at a piece of art across the room and his jawline made Paul suppress a whine, and his cock gave a pathetic twitch. God, what he'd do to lick across it. To bite down, and leave a trail of hickeys all down his thick neck, to his chest. Would his chest be smooth and pale, or thick with hair? Jesus Christ, Paul was dying to find out.

Paul had been so occupied in his randy mind that he didn't notice that John had been trying to grab his attention.

Paul finally snapped out of it and looked John in his eyes. 'Yes', was all he managed to pathetically squeak. 'Paul, luv, are you even listening to me?', John spoke back, a confused look draping over his gorgeous face.

God, what Paul would do to see his face contorted in pleasure, what would his scouse accent sound like on the brink of orgasm? Jesus, Paul needed some air. 

'Yeah, yes, of course I'm listening John', Paul spoke trying to make his voice sound even. 'Look I'm not feeling too well, I'm just going to step outside for a bit'.

'Okay, I'll come with you', John replied. 'NO!', Paul shouted. And John shot him that concerned look again. 'I just don't want you to ruin your night by coming out with me, just wait here, look at some art, and I'll be back soon', Paul said trying to remain calm.

'Bullocks mate, I got nothing better to do 'ere, believe it or not McCartney but you have been my main source of entertainment this evening luv, so let's just get you some of that fresh air you so desperately crave', John stated firmly.

He then gripped Paul's arm and dragged him outside. Paul barley suppressed a moan from how John gripped him. The cool air was a refreshing wave of relief for Paul. He breathed in deep and held it for a few seconds, the breathed it back out. John's hand on his arm become less arousing and more comforting. A warm steady hold, keeping Paul anchored.

'Paul', John spoke lightly. And when he said Paul's name like that, Paul never wanted another person to ever say his name again. Only John. John.

'Paul, luv, are you sure you're okay?'. 'Yeah', Paul breathed out. 

John turned to face Paul. His hand still gripping his arm. They were now only mere centimeters apart. Paul breathed in John's breathe. Beer, and mint. While John's bodily scent of sweat, cologne, and something citrusy enclosed him completely. Reminding him that this was man. A man who he was attracted to. A man who he had a semi for. A man who he wanted to kiss. 

John then took another step closer. Till there bodies were flush against each other. John's broad chest pressing against his, John's hard cock rubbing against his. Paul softly moaned. 'Fuck', John growled before he grabbed Paul by his hair and forced their mouths together. 

Paul had no idea what to do. He'd never kissed another man before, never even thought about it until a few hours ago. He felt like a clumsy bird, having her first kiss at some grotty bus stop. While all these thoughts were rushing through Paul's head it had allowed John to get the upper hand, and take over the kiss. 

Then Paul suddenly felt a hard pressure massaging his at this point painfully hard cock. He moaned and pulled away from the kiss to look down, where he saw John's big veiny hand completely covering his crotch. Paul let out a whine. John leanded in and whispered gruffly into his ear, 'Is this okay? '. Paul snapped his head back up to look at John and desperately started to nod yes.

Then before Paul could let things like common sense, morals, and general intelligence get in the way he dived into John's mouth tongue first. Kissing John was nothing like kissing a bird. It was greedy, hungry, and an everlasting battle for dominance. They were both groaning into each others mouths when John pulled away.

'Let's go back to my house yeah?', John rasped out. Lust, and possessiveness swirling in his eyes. 'Yeah', Paul spoke breathily. Them cleared his throat, 'Yeah, I'd like that, let's do that'. 

John just chuckled, softly grabbed Paul's hand in his own and started to lead him out of the party, and to his house. So that he could have his wicked with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks if you actually read all that. It's kinda messy, and I didn't really get a chance to explore the characters. I think I might do a chapter two with actual smut.
> 
> Please comment if you liked it, and tell me whether or not I should do a second chapter😁


End file.
